


Days in Zenith

by OneTrueAmateur



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Gen, Romance, but only in the first chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-17 10:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14830688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneTrueAmateur/pseuds/OneTrueAmateur
Summary: Here are entries in the life of the Askr Summoner Jordan during his time in Zenith.





	1. Expression of Devotion (Valentine's Day Prompt)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there.
> 
> If you frequent the Fire Emblem Heroes subreddit, specifically the weekly writing prompts that appear every Monday, my username might be a bit familiar to you.
> 
> This work is essentially a collection of all the entries I have written for said weekly writing prompts, all brought together in one location to keep track of more easily.
> 
> Whether you are a returning reader or a new reader, I hope you find some enjoyment from my work.

The nights of the Askr kingdom were often very quiet; many of the Heroes and staff had turned in to their beds, leaving the night guard to watch out for any suspicious activity. It was something Jordan, Summoner of the Order of Heroes, was thankful for.

Oh, he enjoyed the company of the other members of the Order, but even he had his limits concerning their antics; Hector and Ephraim sparring with anyone who’d give them attention (with Ike being a repeated offender), Joshua swindling nearly everyone of their money (and nearly getting hexed for his trouble), and Lissa with her damn pranks—

The Summoner let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his forehead. He had more important things to occupy his thoughts with, such has formulating strategies against those Grand Heroes under Emblian control.

“If I move Ursula here, then this one attacks, and then she can counter…” his thoughts came to a stop. “…No, that leaves Cecilia open to an attack from this guy…” fingers began to tap against the desk, “Maybe if we used Olwen instead…” eyes narrowed in concentration, “…But then they’ll struggle with those cavalry units…”

Another sigh left his lungs. This was how most of his plans turned; take one step forward only to hit a wall almost immediately. He didn’t have the same tactical know-how as Robin or Soren did; if they were here, they’d probably figure out how to overcome this obstacle in no time flat.

…Perhaps he just needed to take a step back, get some rest. God knows that most the heroes agreed he pushed himself too hard. Maybe he could get Azura to sing him a lullaby, or get Henry to come up with some sort of hex to knock him out, or maybe—

Hasty knocks came from his door, catching his attention.

“It’s open.” Jordan responded, rubbing his eyes. After a moment of hesitation, the knocker slowly opened his door.

The smell of chocolate assaulted his nostrils before the door was even halfway open. When he saw who it was, he understood why.

Standing in the doorway was Lucina, flour staining her clothing and chocolate smeared on her fingers and cheeks. In her hands was a small square box wrapped in paper.

“…H-hello, Jordan.” She stuttered out, fidgeting where she stood.

“Hey, Lucy. Come on in. Table’s over there if you want to set your gift down.”

She nodded, closing the door behind her. “Th-thank you. I…apologize that it took so long to make. I’ve never…learned how to bake.” 

“It’s fine,” he dismissed, “not everyone can be masters of the kitchen like Oscar.” He stretched his arms. “How’ve been doing, Lucy? We haven’t talked much these days.”

“I have been doing quite well. Recently, Lady Kagero has been teaching me how to paint.” she gave a small smile. “It has been a rather entertaining experience.”

“…You’ve been learning _painting_ …from _Kagero _…”__

__A quizzical look appeared on Lucina’s face. “Is something wrong with that?”_ _

__“No, no, no, nothing’s wrong with that at all…if you enjoy drawing nightmare fuel.”_ _

__“Her art is fine, thank you. It is not…’nightmare fuel,’ as you call it.” she huffed, causing Jordan to raise a hand in a placating gesture._ _

__“Joking Lucy, joking.”_ _

__She stared at him before giving a glance at the pile of presents occupying the table. “I see you’ve been visited quite a bit.”_ _

__“Yeah, the others decided to get me some stuff too,” the Summoner responded. He grabbed one of the presents and examined it. “Honestly, it’s rather surprising.”_ _

__“Truly?”_ _

__He set the gift back down and sat on the couch. “I mean, for stuff like Christmas or birthdays, I’m used to getting presents, but for Valentine’s Day—”_ _

__“You mean the Day of Devotion.”_ _

__“Same thing basically.” Jordan dismissed, “ _Anyway,_ for Valentine’s Day, I never really got gifts, so it’s a new experience for me.”_ _

__“I see…” Lucina said, then gave him a curious look, “Are you…annoyed with the attention?”_ _

__He chuckled. “Yes, I am annoyed with being showered with gifts from many wonderful guys and gals who enjoy my company.”_ _

__She stared at him for a few seconds. “…Was that…sarcasm?”_ _

__“Congrats, you’re understanding humor now.” He let out a small laugh. Lucina continued staring. Before the moment could become anymore awkward, a smile grew across her lips._ _

__“…You’ve become much more open than before.”_ _

__“…It’s been over a year Lucy,” Jordan responded, “can’t always so soft-spoken and introverted, especially when almost everyone looks to me for guidance in some way.”_ _

__“That may be true,” she answered while sitting beside him, “but you must admit, you have grown considerably compared to when you first began your career as the Order’s Summoner.”_ _

__A sigh left his lips. “True enough, I guess.” The two sat in silence. “I could you thank for that.”_ _

__Surprised, the Future Witness stammered at the Summoner. “S-s-surely you mean to thank P-prince Alfonse and Princess Sharena? It was they who stood beside you during every battle.”_ _

__“Yeah, but so did you. Are you going to deny how much of a boon you were during the Order’s early days?”_ _

__“Of course not, but *you* cannot deny their influence which helped you grow as an individual.”_ _

__“Don’t be so damn modest. You helped too.”_ _

__“I only helped win you battles, not help you turn into the man you are now!”_ _

__“Yes, you did! You gave me the confidence to go on!”_ _

__Whatever protests Lucina had come up with disappeared when she heard that declaration. Once again, the room was silent._ _

__“…Lucina,” Jordan started, “I’m not a hero like the rest of you guys: I’m no Soren or Robin, who can come up with a flawless strategy and end a fight with zero casualties; I’m no Ephraim or Hector, who can rush into a battalion of enemy soldiers and come out on top; I’m no Effie or Frederick, who can protect those closest to them with ease; Hell, I’m not even much of a Marth or Chrom, who can win people over to their side with their charisma alone. You know what I am though? A goddamn college student who wanted to learn how to make video games. When I was first brought here, I struggled hard; I knew almost nothing about tactics, I had difficulty speaking to others, I couldn’t convey orders properly, I was the worst person they Order of Heroes could’ve chosen to lead them. And they suffered for it; every battle we won was by the skin of our teeth. I felt like I was gonna let everyone down. Then you came along.”_ _

__He grasped Lucina’s hands. “You came, and won us so many battles. Where others fell to Embla’s forces, you still stood, ready to return their strikes tenfold. When I was hesitant to send a unit forward to attack, I knew I could send you instead, and you’d come with some minor scratches at worst. I could count on you whenever I doubted we’d succeed. That is why I hold you in high regard: your unbreakable will, something I wish I had at the time. Something _you_ helped me get. You helped hold on to hope even during the most difficult times. You are just as important to me as Alfonse, Sharena, and all the others.” He released his grip on her hands and looked away. “You…are amazing, Lucina.”_ _

__She stared at him, mouth agape and unable to form words. When she found her voice again, one question was asked._ _

__“Do you really mean that?”_ _

__“Why would I lie about something like this?”_ _

__“…I see…” Lucina stared at her hands, “…Thank you…” she turned her gaze towards him, and suddenly lunged towards the Summoner, wrapping her arms around him._ _

__However, her eagerness and passion did not let the two have a heartfelt kiss, but rather they knocked their teeth together and crashed onto the floor. Jordan clutched his mouth, moaning in pain._ _

__“Jordan, I’m so, so sorry!” she rambled out while scrambling off of him. “I-I just couldn’t control myself! I…I was so enamored with what you said that I just…I just…forgive me!” She attempted to leave when his hand grabbed her by the wrist._ _

__“…Why don’t tell me how you really feel?” He requested, slowly standing up._ _

__Lucina looked away from him and fiddled with her fingers. “I…I…I find you to be a wonderful person, Jordan. Despite what you believe, you’ve always had a strong will; you are so far away from home, not in contact with your friends and family, in such an unfamiliar place, yet you still have the strength to forge on ahead and assist Askr in a war. Despite your doubts, you still gave your best, and you never gave up.”_ _

__“A-a-and it’s not just that makes me…attracted to you,” she continued, “it’s your kindness and understanding towards the Order, towards us, that…charmed me; even if you teased or admonished us, you always did your best to make us feel comfortable, be it bringing our families together or just being a person with which we could vent our frustrations to. Even when we weren’t happy, you did what you could to lessen our sorrows…truly, we didn’t deserve such kindness…”_ _

__“Lucina—”_ _

__“Do you remember what you said to me? When I told you how I lost my world to Grima, and how I wished no other world would have to experience such horrors?”_ _

__The Summoner’s face took a contemplative look. “…Yeah, something like ‘I’ll make sure you won’t have to see something like that again.’”_ _

__“Exactly,” she responded, “You lifted my spirits, and gave me hope for a bright future for Askr. You may not be the strongest member physically, but you are an emotional pillar all of us can lean on for support. T-that’s why I…I…I…” she swallowed her hesitance, determination in her eyes, “J-Jordan, I—”_ _

__The Summoner grasped her chin, stopping her. “No more words.” he whispered, and leaned towards her._ _

__She did the same, and soon their lips touched. They held the connection for a long moment, lost in the sheer bliss of the event. The two then separated and stared into each other’s eyes._ _

__“…Happy Valentine’s Day, Jordan.”_ _

__“Thank you. I couldn’t ask for a better gift.”_ _


	2. Hilarious Hares (Spring Banner Prompt)

Monday lunches were always the busiest meal times in Askr; not surprising, considering that Oscar and Peri were on kitchen duty. Every hero, even ones like Michalis and Zephiel, scrambled to grab a plate of their delicious cooking before it was gone. Heroes that spent all day in the library would forgo their books to instead wait in line, and those that enjoyed sparring from sunrise to sunset would cancel their sessions early and dash towards the mess hall. Those that got there first were rewarded with a meal many considered divine, while the stragglers were usually given leftovers from the day before.

Unfortunately, Klein had been so busy training the newest Order recruits that he was part of the latter category. As he stared at the leftover Sunday spaghetti (a dish their Summoner Jordan had made), a melancholic sigh left his lips.

Oscar gave him a sympathetic smile. “Had I known you would be out training all morning, I would’ve saved you a plate. I apologize, Sir Klein.”

“It is fine, Oscar,” he answered back, “but thank you anyway.” The Archer General grabbed his plate and turned towards the tables, scanning for his team. Thankfully, it didn’t take him long, as he caught a glimpse of Nino’s arms flailing in the sky. As his legs guided him towards her, his ears picked up her voice.

“…And then, and then, this giant green wolf shot out and chomped on the training dummy, and then it exploded, and Miss Robin was so amazed and said I could start learning more advanced spells now!” The Pious Mage was practically vibrating in her seat, her lips moving too fast for him to keep track of. Across from her sat Olivia and Lucina, both leaning towards her in interest.

Olivia smiled. “That’s sounds amazing, Nino; to master the Gronnwolf spell so quickly…” she reached over to pat her head. “I can see why Jordan heaps praise upon you.”

Nino averted her eyes from the dancer, a blush creeping into her face as her enthusiasm grinded to a halt.

Klein decided to speak up. “It comes as no surprise: Nino is both one of the most talented mages here and one of the Order’s hardest workers. Mastering such a spell must be child’s play.” All three girls turned towards him and gave out simple greetings (Nino actually rose from her seat to give him a hug) as he took a seat beside them.

“Finished training?” Lucina asked while handing him a small bread loaf, “I was able to grab some extra bread for you.”

“My thanks, Lucina.” Klein accepted the food and rolled one of his shoulders. “Training has finished for the moment, and I believe that boy Morgan is ready to be deployed onto the front lines.”

After that statement, the team’s conversations devolved into small talk, where they merely enjoyed each other’s company. They discussed upcoming plans, Nino’s studies, new dances Olivia was experimenting with, and many other topics.

However, Klein noticed that not all of his teammates were as invested in the discussions.

“Is something wrong, Lucina?” He asked. Nino and Olivia turned towards their fourth member.

“…Do you all hear that?”

Confused, the archer listened for anything out of place. After a few moments, his ears picked up something.

It sounded like…raucous laughter? And it was coming this way—

A sudden crash spooked Klein (and most of the other heroes), who turned his attention towards the mess hall’s entrance to see the Summoner on the floor, shaking like a leaf in a storm.

“Jordan!” He dashed from his seat towards his friend’s prone form. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Hehehehe…y-yeah, I’m…pffft…I’m good…”

“…Are you sure?”

He nodded, but was still shuddering. What was causing him to laugh so hard?

The sound of footsteps behind him made Klein turn his head back. Chrom, the Spring Festival version, was walking towards the pair with a look of confusion present.

“Klein, what’s wrong with our Summoner?”

The archer opened his mouth to answer, but the intensity of his friend’s shaking wrested his attention from the Spring Exalt. Tears seemed to form in the Summoner’s eyes as he clamped his own mouth shut, his eyes glued on Chrom.

“Jordan, are you—”

“ **BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!** ”

Every hero in the mess hall flinched at the sound, one they had never heard come from their Summoner. Its thunderous melody caused many to shudder in apprehension. Even Valter, the most unhinged individual within the Order, stared at the boy on the floor with horror on his face.

Klein looked up towards his group, hoping against all logic that they would have some sort of explanation. Three pairs of flabbergasted eyes were his answer.

\----------

Alfonse’s groan was muffled by his own hands on his face.

He saw it. He saw it all. He saw it all and he’s probably laughing right now and—

“Oh, you’re overreacting, brother! What makes you think he’s laughing?”

Alfonse frowned at Sharena. “Maybe because we are wearing some of the most ridiculous pieces of clothing ever made? Because he put his own hand over his mouth after two minutes of awkward silence between us? Because of _this?_ ” He pointed to his partially exposed chest. Gods, he could handle wearing this…gaudy outfit, if only it didn’t expose so much skin.

Sharena scoffed and smacked him on the back. “Don’t be such a party pooper, Alfonse. The Spring Festival is coming up pretty soon, and we gotta get all dressed up for it.” She shot him a smirk “It’s a time to go out and have fun, so smile!”

“I’ll smile when I’m out of this clothing.”

Sharena was about to retort when a knock came from the door. “Come in~~!” She called out, to which the door opened to reveal Fjorm.

Alfonse felt a chill run down his spine. _‘Oh no.’_

“Princess Sharena, Prince Alfonse.” she addressed while having her eyes on some papers (thank the Gods), “I apologize if I was interrupting anything; however, I have been told by Sir Robin to relay to you some important information.”

“O-of course, Princess Fjorm.” Alfonse stuttered out, “Please, continue.”

Fjorm did as requested, relaying logistics and strategies to the two royals, with Alfonse doing his best to speak clearly (Sharena was too busy smirking to make any comments).

“…And that concludes my report.” The Princess stated, her eyes still on the papers.

“Th-thank you, Princess Fjorm,” Alfonse muttered, “Is there anything else—”

“Are you feeling well, Prince?”

His cheeks flared up in embarrassment. “Y-y-yes, of course! Nothing to worry about! Yo-you can leave now!”

She huffed in response and closed her eyes. “You do not sound well. In fact, you have been acting like this since I entered.” Her eyes opened and rose from the papers. “If there is anything I can do for you, please, do not…hesitate……to………a-a………….”

Fjorm stared at Alfonse, her sentence dying in her throat. Alfonse, meanwhile, felt his face burn with a heat greater than the flames of Muspell.

Sharena giggled beside him. “Sooooo, what do you think~~?”

Fjorm kept her eyes on Alfonse while he directed his downwards. Neither had any idea what to say. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the Askr Prince’s voice wormed its way out. “Th..this is just for—”

Immediately, the Princess of Nifl placed both her hands onto his chest and attempted to squeeze the pectoral muscles. Alfonse felt a yelp jump out of his throat(Coldcoldcoldcoldcold) as he jumped back, causing Fjorm to snap out of her trance. 

She stared at her outstretched arms, then at the Prince, then back to her arms. Her face began to redden at the implications. Alfonse was no better, placing his hands on the spots Fjorm touched and staring back and forth from his chest to her and back to his chest.

The awkward silence that followed was soon replaced by Princess Sharena falling to the floor and clutching her stomach.


	3. Mending Hearts (World of Thracia Prompt)

“There; I have healed all of your major wounds, Lord Sigurd.” Lachesis stated while putting away her staff. “However, I would still recommend taking time to rest and recuperate.”

“My thanks, Lady Lachesis.” The Lord of Chalphy shot her a smile. “I can always count on you to patch me up.”

Lachesis nodded, but gave no verbal reply, her eyes unfocused. Both sat in silence, the crackling campfire the only entity willing to speak.

“…Lord Sigurd?” she questioned, grabbing the man’s attention. “H-have you…ever…” she tried (and failed) to swallow the lump in her throat. “Have you ever—"

“Murdered my own offspring?”

The blunt delivery caught her by surprise. Still, Lachesis nodded, eyes still on the now melancholic Lord.

Breathing deeply, Sigurd shut his eyes. “…It was a skirmish with Emblian forces in one of Zenith’s northern territories. Scouts had reported a rather sizable contingent of soldiers, consisting mainly of heroes from the worlds of Archanea and Jugdral. Sir Jordan and Sir Robin had requested that Prince Xander, Princess Hinoka, and myself would take our squadrons and intercept them, as our mounts could easily close the distance.” He shifted slightly in his seat. “After about two to three full days of travel, we encountered the Emblian forces in a valley. They weren’t expecting us at all, so we had the element of surprise.”

“I still remember how efficiently we struck them; Prince Xander and Sir Camus rushed through enemy lines and batted foes away while Sir Reinhardt, Princess Camilla, and Lady Nowi rained magic upon them; Lady Lyndis, Princess Hinoka, and Lady Ursula took out multiple generals in the group while Lady Priscilla and Princess Azura provided support. It only took us less than an hour to cut down half their numbers. However, we made a mistake at some point. During the skirmish, Lady Priscilla extended herself too far healing Princess Hinoka’s wounds and had found herself separated from Lady Lyndis and Lady Ursula…” His hand traveled to Tyrfing’s grip and tightened around it.

“…And my son was prepared to deal a finishing blow. I…I was the only one close enough to intercept him…so I…I…” Sigurd’s posture began shuddering while his voice cracked. “I had to—”

“Stop.” Lachesis requested, “I…understand how the story ends. Forgive me for having you relive those memories. It was not my intent.”

Silence blanketed the two nobles once more, neither finding the motivation to continue the dour conversation.

“…I’m sure she’ll forgive you…”

Lachesis’ eyes glanced at the Lord. “What?”

“Nanna…I’m sure she’ll forgive you.” He repeated. His voice no longer cracked as his posture returned to normal. “She’ll understand why you had to strike her down: that you did it to break her free from Embla’s contract; that you did it to stop her from eternally serving that madman Surtr.” Sigurd stared at the noble with a determined gaze. “You did not strike her down with joy on your face, but with a heavy heart. Nanna will understand your actions, and she will forgive you,” His eyes softened, “Just like how Seliph forgave me.”

Lachesis kept her gaze on the Lord of Chalphy before turning it upward towards the snow floating lazily down.

“…I hope you are correct, Lord Sigurd…”

\----------

“Brother, you are an idiot.” 

“I am well aware of your thoughts on me, Olwen.” Reinhardt muttered while applying a vulnerary to his bruised arm. “You have told me that no less than twelve times since we—”

“Well let us make it thirteen then, because you _are_ an idiot.”

“Fourteen, actually: I did not include the declaration you said a few seconds ago.”

A strangled scream wormed its way out of Olwen’s throat as more of the medicinal concoction was applied to Reinhardt’s neck. He hissed as the cool liquid seeped into his cut. The knight of Friege had to give himself credit, he knew how to wield a sword rather well despite his preference for magic.

Well, more accurately, his doppelganger knew how to wield a sword rather well.

Despite having seen so many versions of himself and other members of the Order during his time in Zenith, it still always came as a shock to him to see himself amongst the enemy forces. Sir Jordan had once mentioned to him the idea of “parallel universes,” how every action can branch out into multiple possibilities. Had he been told of such a theory before his time in Askr, he most likely would have laughed it off as childish.

Now though, after seeing four different Robins discussing strategy, three different Ikes sparring together, and two different Lucinas charging into combat? He was willing to believe almost anything at this point.

His musings were stomped out by Olwen’s declaration of “Are you even listening?!” 

“Why are you even so worked up over this?” Reinhardt snapped back (to the surprise of both of them), “It is not as if I met my end to some brigand. I am alive and well.”

“Why am I—you almost died out there! You threw yourself in between me and your doppelganger and had a sword in gut! I had to drag you from the front lines back to Princess Sakura for healing!”

“But you were safe, were you not?”

“Yes, but—"

The general rested his hands on his sister’s shoulders, silencing her protests. “Olwen, I have done so many horrible things in my time serving under Lord Julius; murder, destruction, the child hunts, and so much more, be it something I took part in, or something I raised no protest against. I took part in and ignored so many horrid events until I was finally struck down for my crimes, by you no less. In Jugdral, all I did was bring destruction. In Askr however, I can save people instead. I can finally provide justice under a just cause, under a just leader. And I can do that while also protecting those close to me. So please Olwen, my dear sister, let me atone for my crimes by protecting you. Let me…be the brother that I never was…”

Olwen stared at her brother, her previous fire lost. Her gaze, previously unwavering, began leaking tears. Suddenly, her arms wrapped around him as her face pressed into his chest.

“…You are such an idiot…” she muttered as Reinhardt’s own arms went around her.

\----------

_”Hello, dear Summoner.” Gunnthra greeted within the realm of dreams, “I hope you are doing well this day.”_

_”Hey Gunnthra,” Jordan gave a small wave while seating himself next to the Nifl Princess, “Can’t really complain, though we should be reaching Serengeti in about three days’ time.”_

_She giggled. “I believe you meant to say Snjarhof.”_

_“Yeah, Saratoga.”_

_“Snjarhof.”_

_“Seattle?”_

_“Sn. Jar. Hof.” Gunnthra repeated, laughter creeping into her voice. “Now you try saying it.”_

_The Summoner stared at her before sighing. “Okay, okay, I’ll say it properly…”_

_“Super. Mario. Brothers.”_

_Gunnthra smacked his shoulder as her other arm covered her lips to stop the laughter. “You…you are so…insufferable!”_

_“And you seem to enjoy my insufferability!” He shot back, his own voice sniggering._

_Their chortling eventually softened into chuckling, and eventually silence._

_“…You know…I am really looking forward to meeting you…”_

_“And why’s that?” Gunnthra questioned._

_“I mean, it’d be nice to see what you actually look like. Despite the month of interaction between us, I never once saw the entirety of your face.” He turned towards the princess. “Like, I try to focus on your face, but no matter how hard I concentrate, all I can see are your chin and lips.”_

_“Ah, so you suffer from that as well.” She muttered. “The same has happened with me; all I can see of you is your body from the neck down.”_

_“Huh, how strange. Well, at least we’ll be able to solve that mystery soon.” Jordan responded, turning his head towards the horizon. “Get to see how beautiful you really are...” He had said that last part very quietly, as if it was for his ears only._

_Unfortunately, the realm of dreams gave Gunnthra much better hearing than normal._

_“Beautiful you say?” She questioned, causing the Summoner to jerk in his seat. “What made you jump to that conclusion?”_

_“Well…” he softly stuttered, “based on what I’ve seen of you, you probably do look gorgeous…”_

_“Based on what you’ve…” she gasped while placing an arm over her chest. “Dear Summoner! Where do your eyes wander during our conversations?!”_

_“That’s not what I meant!” he shouted, face no doubt red, “What I meant was—”_

_His explanation was cut off by Gunnthra’s melodious laugh. He stared at her, wide-eyed and confused, until it finally clicked._

_“You…you’re teasing me, aren’t you!?!”_

_“Hehehe…yes…for…forgive me…you just…” she struggled to finish her sentence. “You just make it…hehe…easy to…tease you…”_

_Jordan looked away, heat still present in his face as Gunnthra continued to laugh._

_He suddenly felt something rest on his shoulder. “I apologize for my behavior, it’s just…few people have been so honest with me about their feelings.” Her hand clasped the Summoner’s. “My sisters are a stubborn lot, always being difficult and not being honest with themselves around me. To have someone admit their feelings so casually…well…it just makes me smile.”_

_“…Thanks, Gunnthra…” Jordan muttered. He opened his mouth to continue, but saw darkness spreading across the edges of his vison. “Looks like I’m waking up soon.”_

_“Already?” she whined, before sighing in acceptance. “Oh, alright…Be safe, dear Jordan.”_

_As the darkness consumed his vision, he heard Gunnthra’s parting words._

_“May we meet again in Snjarhof, my handsome Summoner.”_

\----------

His eyes opened, seeing the tent roof overhead. Outside, the chattering of heroes was easily heard. He felt the warmth of the blanket covering him, and the smell of roasted meat wafted into his nose.

Jordan’s attention wasn’t on that however. He brushed his fingers under one of his eyes and felt liquid touch his skin. He stared at the tear-stained digits before forcing his eyes shut and throwing the blanket over his body. New tears began to fall as strangled cries attempted to escape his lungs. Only one thought occupied his mind:

‘Gunnthra…I’m so sorry…’


	4. Frost's Touch (Rite of Frost Prompt)

From a young age, Fjorm had learned early on that she did not have a grasp of the more traditional forms of magic; Anima, Light, Dark, Summoning, they all were incomprehensible to her. No matter how often she studied magical tomes, no matter how often she recited the incantation of spells, no matter how much she put in to learning, her efforts always led to one result: disappointment.

She remembered asking some of Nifl’s Royal Guards and…her sister…what it was like to have command over magic, to rain all manners of spells upon foes, to warp and distort the land around them with just words and gestures alone.

“It’s…stimulating,” was the general answer amongst them, “you can feel power flowing through every part of your person, and every incantation spoken amplifies this feeling, until it just explodes out.”

Stimulating. That word – and the description connected to it – was her window into a power that she could never control; Even the legendary Leiptr, with its radiance and power, hardly seemed to measure up to how the inhabitants of her kingdom spoke of magic.

Stimulating. Was that the proper word to use for her situation? Now that she had made a pact with Nifl, could she finally understand what they had felt when using the arcane arts? Fjorm wasn’t sure, but she was at least confident that she’d finally have the power to put that madman Surtr in his pla—

Fjorm started coughing. Her hand quickly traveled up to cover her mouth as her body convulsed. She had been like this ever since the Rite of Frost; though she gained the power of a godly entity, she also had to deal with a rather nasty cough. As her coughing fit began to die down, her attention returned to the group within the war tent. Concern was directed at her by Prince Alfonse, Princess Sharena, and Commander Anna. Sir Robin and Sir Klein both raised an eyebrow at her, while Sir Jordan’s eyes narrowed at her.

“Yeesh, that one was the most violent one yet.” Sharena commented beside her, “You sure you’re okay, Fjorm?”

“Y-yes, of course.” She answered, “just a simple cold, like I said.” Her hand gestured to the map spread across the table. “Could we continue discussing our plan of action?” 

Though hesitant, the group eventually returned to their original discussion: now that the Order of Heroes has acquired the means to counteract King Surtr’s unyielding flames, they had to plan out their next move. Do they strike him head on, wait for him to reach them, or take some other method of action?

As the meeting continued on, Fjorm’s coughing sporadically came out, distracting the other group members. Though they were all worried for her, none were willing to speak up.

“Fjorm, go see the healers about that cough.”

Except for Jordan. 

“W-what was that?” She asked, palm resting on her chest.

His eyes seemed to narrow even more. “Ever since you did the rite, you’ve been doing nothing but coughing.” One of his hands gestured to the exit of the tent. “Get yourself checked out by a healer.”

Fjorm let out a huff. Really, he could be so paranoid of things. “It is just a cough, Sir Jordan. I should be fine by the morning.”

Still, his eyes kept their gaze on her. “That was an order, not a request.”

She sighed. Really, this man…

“Sir Jordan, it is fine. I can just—”

“For fucks sake, get your ass to the healers, now.”

Wide-eyed stares landed on the irate Summoner, whose attention stayed on the Princess of Nifl. No one knew what to say to that declaration, too shocked at the fact that their summoner, kind-hearted Jordan, could sound so…hostile.

After a few agonizing moments of stillness, Fjorm’s legs slowly brought her to the tent exit, where she disappeared behind the flap. One second passed, then two, then three.

“…Was that attitude really necessary?” Anna finally questioned, voice neutral.

“I don’t trust her to be honest with us,” he responded, “and I don’t trust what that rite did either.”

Sharena’s head tilted slightly. “What’s so bad about the rite? It gave us the power to counter the flames of Muspell. We can finally stop Surtr!”

“Valter got a hold on a cursed lance that gave him incredible power at the cost of morality and sanity; Both Tikis constantly need to have a dragonstone on hand or face mental deterioration when they transform; The Corrins gained the ability to transform into a dragon after seeing their mother get murdered right in front of them.” His arms gestured outwards. “See where my examples are going?”

“…Power comes at a cost.” Robin answered.

“Exactly, and what kind of price must be paid to ‘kill the undying’ as Fjorm said?”

“Are you saying that we should not have initiated the rite?” Alfonse asked.

“Of course not, I’m just…” the Summoner’s arms fell to his side. He let out a sigh. “I’m just worried about the worst-case scenario: that this ‘god’ Nifl is going to backstab us once we deal with Surtr…”

The rest of the tent occupants gave glances at one other. It wasn’t an unfounded fear; they all knew of the idea that “absolute power corrupts absolutely,” and none of them doubted Jordan’s thought-process (Alfonse could attest to their wisdom, considering he found out what happened to Zacharias before anyone in Askr did)…

But the thought that one of their closest allies could easily become an enemy…it was still rather farfetched to them.

Commander Anna contemplated for a few moments before speaking. “Jordan, go get some rest.” At his confused stare, she continued, “You have been pushing yourself too hard these past few months; it has started to affect your mind. And don’t think I don’t see those bags under your eyes. You need to get some sleep, and actually relax for once.”

“So we’re just gonna ignore what’s been happening with Fjorm?” His tone was snappy, guarded, and his eyes were still narrowed, frustration obvious. Anna shot back an equally narrow look before Alfonse spoke up.

“No one here is saying that,” the Askr Prince reassured, “but we need you at your best, and considering how you have been acting since this campaign started, plus what happened at…Snjarhof…you are _not_ in the best condition.”

“What they’re _trying_ to say,” Sharena jumped in, pulling the Summoner’s ire from her brother and commander, “is that we are worried about you.” With his eyes now on her, she started to fidget. “You…you’ve been skipping meals, staying up way past midnight, practically working all day…” she inhaled sharply. “Jordan, this isn’t healthy. Like, at all.”

“Sharena—”

“Don’t ‘Sharena’ me!” She stomped around the table towards Jordan, frame shaking with every step. “Do you know how much you make us worry?! Every day for the last two months has been ‘work, strategize, train, work, fight, strategize, repeat!’” She grabbed his shoulder and stared straight at him, exposing him to fresh tears. “Y-you never give time for yourself anymore, and…and…” her shaking legs buckled. Face pressed against his chest, she squeaked out her last sentence.

“I-I don’t want to see you keel over…”

Whatever words Jordan would’ve spoken faded away as Sharena hiccupped and sobbed into his chest. Bringing his hands around the crying princess, he turned towards the rest of the tent, and was met with dour expressions of concern.

Klein made his way towards the Summoner and rested his hand on his shoulder. “I’ll make sure he gets some proper rest.” the Archer General announced, “I leave the rest of the planning to you all.” Pulling him towards the tent exit, Jordan let go of Sharena and gave one last look to the Commander and Prince.

\---------

“They shouldn’t worry about me.”

Klein couldn’t stop the sigh leaving his lungs. If you had asked him “how many times have you heard that phrase uttered,” his response would be something like “how many steps have you taken in your life?” 

An exaggeration to be sure, but that sentence was stated often for him to be concerned.

“Jordan, your eyes are baggy, your gait has been sluggish, and you have been more hostile to everyone as of late.” He reprimanded lightly, “Of course they would worry over your health.”

“They’ve got a war to worry about. They shouldn’t have to look out for me too…”

“And why not?” Klein asked (much harsher than intended), “Why do you not want your friends to look out for you? Why do you try to hide what bothers you?” His grip on his friend’s arm tightened. “Why do you insist on shouldering these burdens alone?”

Unsurprisingly, the Summoner said nothing.

That’s how their conversations usually went these days: Jordan would say that others shouldn’t worry about him, Klein would try to interrogate him for a reason, and he would clam up, ending the conversation.

Sighing once more, Klein guided his friend towards his bed. “I expect you to try to get some sleep, understood? At least five hours’ worth.”

Ideally, he’d request seven hours, but the Archer General doubted that would happen.

As Jordan (reluctantly) laid down and shut his eyes, Klein took a seat on a nearby stool, eyes on his friend’s form.

Now he had to wait for the nightmares to surface.

\----------

Had he not felt another presence within the room, Klein probably would not have woken up until sunrise. Feeling the overwhelming aura of another individual, his body moved on its own, unsheathing an emergency combat knife on his person and brandishing it towards…

The floating form of the Fell Dragon Grima.

Once his mind caught up with his body, Klein awkwardly returned the blade to its sheathe. Brandishing a weapon against an ally? A bad idea. Brandishing a weapon against a person of mass destruction? An even worse idea. “Ah, Grima. Forgive me, I didn’t notice you come in.”

Grima gave no response. In fact, Grima wasn’t acknowledging him at all it seemed; Her eyes were focused on some random point in front of her. Following her stare’s direction, he understood why:

Jordan was shuddering under his covers, face appearing to be in pain.

“Damn it,” Klein muttered, “another nightmare.” 

Ever since the events of Snjarhof, Jordan’s sleep had been plagued with haunting dreams. Klein, being one of his closest allies, made it his mission to make sure these didn’t last all that long.

Looks like he failed in that regard.

Standing up, Klein took a step towards the Summoner, only for the arm of the tent’s other occupant to block his path.

“…What are you doing?” He questioned, confused. Grima did not respond, eyes staying on Jordan as she glided towards him. Seating herself on his bedside and running a hand through his scalp slowly, the Fell Dragon opened her mouth and…

…began singing?

Yes, that was most definitely some sort of lullaby coming from her. Klein stared at her, utterly flabbergasted. Here was the Fell Dragon, a destructive beast with the powers of a god that desired humanity’s end and threatened death to all those around her, singing a lullaby as if she were a mother caring for her child.

He saw Jordan’s body slacken at the notes, his breathing slowing down, and his brow unfurrow. The Summoner was finally, genuinely, asleep.

Grima continued singing, her voice…surprisingly melancholic for a song that seemed more lighthearted (Klein realized that it was the same lullaby Lady Cordelia once sang during a mission). Klein continued to listen, feeling his own stress and fatigue wane in the presence of such a song.

She continued singing for a few more minutes. After the final note was sung, silence overtook the tent: Grima, unwilling to speak; Klein, unsure of what to say.

“Go rest.” Grima commanded after a moment, “I can watch the whelp for the night.”

Klein stared at her for a long period of time, watching her caress his friend’s scalp in a soothing fashion, her eyes never leaving his face. Eventually, he nodded and walked towards his own bed, intent on getting some rest as well.

Had he stayed awake just a little longer, the Archer General would’ve noticed Grima’s eyes flicker from red to brown for just a split second, a somber smile gracing her lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated. I'm always looking for ways to improve my writing.


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